


Grand Jeté

by Nihonophile



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Angst, Ballet, Dark, Heartbreak, M/M, Sad Peter Parker, mentioned sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 08:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14712821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonophile/pseuds/Nihonophile
Summary: No matter how perfectly Peter executed his dance moves, his instructor would always remind him that his movement lacked emotion, something that would differentiate him from all others in the competitive ballet world. When Tony came into his life, he found a passion that immediately changed the way he danced, gaining recognition from his peers and teacher. Peter couldn’t be happier.Then Tony breaks it off.Peter left to wallow in these negative emotions turns to the only outlet he knows of, and unleash his sadness and anger through his dance.





	Grand Jeté

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so first of all, forgive me if this is terrible, this is my first work ever so constructive criticism is welcomed. Second this is mostly going to be through Peter’s POV, occasionally through Tony’s. Last, this is set after Tony leaves Peter, but there will be flashbacks. Hopefully this doesn’t go terribly.

No matter what Peter did he couldn’t help but feel cold, the kind that you could feel in your bones. It ached so much, serving to remind him that his heart wasn’t fairing any better. Aunt May has begun to notice along with his friends, all sending concerned glances toward him, hell even his dance instructor, Mr.Perrot, was noticing that something seemed off with Peter.

Currently, Peter was at the studio practicing and maintaining his form, lest he lose the only thing he had left in his mediocre life. After stretching with his fellow peers, the instructor decided to evaluate each of the dancers styles, unforgivingly raining down criticisms on any dancer who as so much as missed a simple Plié. And of course, of all days Peter felt like shit.

When the instructor finally called upon Peter, his palms were clammy and his aching heart was hammering. He barely felt as if he was present. As the man put on the music for his routine, Peter got into first position. The music started filtering a soft and airy tune, everything contradicting how Peter felt at the moment. Hard and heavy, a crippled husk of his usual self. All the dancers watched Peter perform his dance. Peter suddenly felt claustrophobic, too much input (so many eyes, so much judgement, too much room for error), too much everything and nothing. Peter felt nothing, then anxiety, back to nothing, and so on. That was a problem that was waiting to open a Pandora’s box of other problems.

Peter was a naturally clumsy person, both physically and mentally. Always stumbling over feet and words like no other.                                                                                                                   _Tony used to love that_. His mind whispered. Relentlessly teasing him for how adorably awkward he acted (something he always secretly enjoyed).

So when his nature melded with his tumultuous emotions and distracting thoughts his mind supplied, he was bound to do a crap job of a dance, and his instructor was having none of it.

“No. No. No!!! Stop!” His instructor screamed, making Peter halt in the middle of his routine. Peter wouldn’t dare look him in the eye.                                                                                           “What was that, a joke? Are you trying to be funny Parker? Because that crappy movement that you were showing was as fucking elegant as a walrus moving. Look at me dammit!!!” Peter tentatively looked up, mumbling an apology at the seething man, feeling everyone’s eyes on them.

“My office. Now.” Perrot commanded. Subconsciously Peter remembered how Tony had said the same phrase countless times, but for entirely different reasons, dirty and sinful.

Both men entered the room, Mr. Perrot closing the door behind them. “Mr. Per—“ Peter started, but stopped when Perrot held up his hand. “Shut it. I don’t want to hear any excuses, I just want you to listen.” Perrot spoke,“This past year your skills have grown exponentially, you went from practically an idiotic cartoon character to a true ballet dancer.” Peter blushed at the praise about to express his gratitude, opening his mouth,                                                                                                       “But—“                                                                                                                                   and closing it again. “—I expect you to keep growing, and I will not allow laziness in my class, is that understood Parker?” Perrot questioned. Peter’s eyes widened at his instructor’s words. “Sir! Please don’t misunderstand, I would never let myself get idle when it comes to this, i-it’s just that I’ve been having a few personal problems and I let them get to me, but I promise I’ll do better!!” Peter’s pleaded, he couldn’t bear to have this taken away from him too, not now when everything was going to hell.                                                                                                                                “Then **use it** , Parker. Whatever feelings you have right now can be unleashed and embraced through your dancing, it doesn’t matter if it’s love or hatred just incorporate it. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes, sir.”                 “Good. Now get out, if you don’t get out of whatever slump you’re in then you’re off the crew for the next show, and go home Parker, you like fucking death itself.”                                                           “Yes, sir.”

   Peter felt numb as he walked to the apartment complex where he resided with Aunt May, the dreary weather clearing up the streets enough for Peter to easily weave through the crowd. Everything Peter cared for was going down the drain since Uncle Ben died, it was almost like he was cursed. As he entered the apartment he called out to Aunt May, but no one answered back. Peter shuffled into the kitchen and found a note from May telling him that she was going to come home late.

 _Great. All alone with myself._  Peter thought, immediately taking out his cell and texted his friends to see if anyone was available. Only to receive a bunch of apologies and reasons to why they couldn’t hang out with him.

Peter just stood there in his room, not knowing what to do, everything just seemed uninteresting. Normally he would call Tony to come and whisk Peter off to his penthouse, and get into all that hot and steamy action.

_Stop._

_Stop thinking about him, you’re just hurting yourself._

Peter had barely cried, since Tony left him pushing what had occurred to the farthest corners of his mind, but after what had happened earlier, all the negative emotions crashed down on him, and suddenly                                                                                                                                             .           Peter couldn’t breathe.

Tears started welling up and rolling off his cheeks in large drops. Gasping for air as if he had been underwater for far too long. 

_Not enough air, too much pain._

Everything in his body screamed, his heart was tearing itself apart. He crumpled onto the ground, his legs too weak to support all the emotional baggage he was carrying. His sobs came out in wet heaves, his hands pulling at his hair, and it was **too cold.** He shivered and curled up on the ground, trying to hide from himself, from the world. The pain was too much to bear.         

_Pathetic. No wonder Tony left you._

Peter whimpered at his mind’s taunts, because they were true. He wanted to die, no, he needed to die. And so he wept and wept, until his eyes were so red and swollen he could barely see. Without noticing he fell asleep, tired of being Peter Parker.

When he woke up, it was already dark outside, and every muscle hurt from being on the floor. He unsteadily got up and headed to the bathroom, flicking the switch on. He stared at his reflection, and God was he a mess. Disheveled hair, dark red bags under his eyes stood out against his pasty complexion. His eyes no longer having their usual shine.

” _Baby boy, those eyes of yours are gonna be the death of me. God, you’re so beautiful.”_

Peter let out a hysterical giggle at the memory, if only Tony could see him now.

He gripped the sink until his knuckles went pale.

_“Let’s stop this Peter, it’s only hurting both of us.”_

_”No, **please** , I’ll be better, Tony, don’t leave me, please, please....”_

_”I’m tired Peter,_ _keeping up this charade.”_

_” It’s not a charade to me, please, **I love you.** ”_

_” I know, and I’m sorry...... but I love **Pepper Potts**.”_

_”Goodbye Parker”_

_” **NO!! Tony!! Don’t le** ave me...”_

Something in Peter hardened, he look up at his reflection, there was no turning back, he had to be strong. 

 

“... **use it** , Parker. Whatever feelings you have right now can be unleashed and **embraced** through your dancing, it doesn’t matter if it’s love or **hatred**...”

 

And that’s what Peter Parker will do.

All the despair, sadness, and anger Tony left alone with would be used, in the only way he knew how.

”Goodbye Mr.Stark.”

 

                                  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, finished! So hopefully this sets up the plot bunny. Next up is a flashback of the relationship ship between Tony and Peter.


End file.
